


Close

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bilbo’s boyfriends don’t believe in space.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravin/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for shadow-ravin’s “Thorin/Dwalin/Bilbo relationship and Dwalin and Thorin being overprotective of Bilbo” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158362218595/would-you-please-write-something-with-a).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

By the time he’s ready to leave the Shire again, it’s a stifling mid-May, summer starting early and rolling in too hot to stand. A part of him wants to just stay home and laze about until it’s a decent temperature again, but that would mean waiting to travel in the rain and wind of autumn, and besides, he longs to see _mountains_ again. 

And, most importantly, Thorin and Dwalin seem to have had just about enough of Hobbiton, and Hobbiton’s had more than enough of them. It’s good to finally be on the road, away from prying eyes, without hobbits like Lobelia constantly scowling at his back. It’s good to have Thorin and Dwalin not scowling back. They both seem quite content to be out camping, even though they’ve since grown used to the splendor of a newly thriving Erebor. Bilbo’s sure it was quite difficult for Erebor’s king to slip away without a hoard of guards, but Dwalin makes for enough protection. Dwalin checks the perimeter of the area they’ll set up camp in, way out in the East Farthing, while Thorin goes to fetch wood for a campfire, even though Bilbo insists, “There isn’t any trouble in the Shire—and for goodness’ sakes, whatever do we need a fire for?”

“To cook,” Thorin says like it’s obvious, before promptly marching off down the grassy slope to disappear in the sparse sprinkling of trees below. Dwalin’s already wandered off in the opposite direction, and it leaves Bilbo to huff in their wake. Dwarves are difficult, but then, he _missed them_ so terribly when he had to go home without them. He can’t wait to see all the others, although it is nice, for just this little while, to have just his two favourites at his side. 

He decides to check on the ponies while he waits for them to return, only to pause as he walks by the bedrolls. He specifically laid his out a little ways from the others, because as much as he’s enjoyed having Thorin and Dwalin in his bed—or at least, enjoyed it for the few nights before the bed collapsed—that was in the relative coolness of Bag End. Out in the open, oven-like air, it would be ridiculous to lie so close together. He drags his bedroll out from between theirs and pulls it around to the other side of the ponies. 

Then he decides it’s time to wrangle in his men. He trails after Thorin simply because he saw where Thorin went, but when he gets down into the trees, Thorin’s nowhere to be found. An apple tree is, and it distracts him for a moment—he’d forgot to pack enough fruit, and the ponies have suffered for it.

Three apples cradled in his arms, Bilbo climbs the hill again. It’s getting darker, the stars half out, but between them and the moon, their peaceful clearing is reasonably visible. The ponies stick out like a sore thumb in the gentle landscape, and they whine at him as he come closer, then flick their tails as he holds out the first apple. He’s only fed his own steed when he realizes that Thorin and Dwalin’s bedrolls have both been moved and, when he walks around to feed the next pony, he finds them tucked right on either side of his. 

With a little roll of his eyes and a small ‘hrmph,’ Bilbo offers up the last apple and promptly drags his bedroom back around to the original side. Then he decides to try for Dwalin and walks off down the hill again. 

He’s only just reached the bottom when he hears a loud stomping coming up the other side, and he turns to see Thorin, silhouetted in starlight against the sky, drop a bundle of firewood and immediately head for the bedrolls.

Somewhere on Bilbo’s left, Dwalin appears out of some bushes and calls, “Oi, don’t move those! I just put them right!”

“What’d you put them away from Bilbo for?” Thorin calls back. Dwalin gives a little start, and Bilbo goes hurrying back up.

He makes it to the top in time to slap Thorin’s hands away and ask, “What were _you_ going to move them for?”

“To be close to you, of course,” Thorin answers sharply, bending down to pick up the end of the bedroll again. On anyone else, it might sound romantic, but Thorin manages to deliver the explanation as gruffly as ever. Bilbo has to shift to stand purposely in his way, just as Dwalin’s reached them and gone for his own bedroll.

“Don’t be silly,” Bilbo tries to reason, even though he inadvertently picked two of the most serious dwarves he could. “We’re in the middle of a heat wave! And don’t think it’ll go away just because the sun’s down—when the Shire wants to roast, it roasts!”

Dwalin snorts, but smartly doesn’t come back with tales of just how hot the inside of a mountain can get. Thorin only looks cross. “What’s that got to do with sleeping together?”

The mere suggestion makes Bilbo blush, but he says anyway, “It’s got everything to do with it. If we all lie together, we’ll boil right up! We can’t have all that body heat so close together.”

“Bah,” Thorin says, gesturing dismissively, and the quickness of it gives Bilbo pause—neither he nor Dwalin look like this information is new. 

Dwalin insists, “We’ll be fine.”

“But why should we?” Bilbo presses.

“Because that’s what dwarves and hobbits do when they’re together,” Thorin insists, firmer now.

“But we don’t need to _every night_ —”

“Why not?” Dwalin adds. 

Bilbo opens his mouth, but instead of snapping back, closes it again and stands straighter, hands on his hips. He looks from one to the other, knowing something’s up, and when neither confesses, he summons a no-nonsense tone and demands, “What’s _really_ going on here?”

Thorin continues to borderline glare at him, even though Bilbo hasn’t bowed to that look since they’ve been together, but Dwalin glances at Thorin.

A minute later, Thorin shakes his head and grunts, “ _Fine_. We just want to protect you, okay? In the middle of the night, anything could happen—”

“Protect me!” Bilbo exclaims, before laughing without meaning to. Of course—he should’ve guessed as much. Of course both his boyfriends would be completely ridiculous, in their own way. Dwalin turns a subtle pink, as he tends to when being laughed at. Bilbo shakes his head and throws out his arms, indicating the peaceful, rolling meadow all around them, and stresses, “We’re in _the Shire_! There’s nothing to protect me _from_!”

“There are always things—” Thorin presses, but Bilbo talks right over him:

“Why, the worst disturbance in years has just been you two, glaring at anyone who calls me strange, even though you’ve both turned me quite strange, thank-you-very-much! Now, we’re not even to Buckland yet, and you’re already in a fuss! I promise you, I’ve done quite well in the Shire all my life without the help of two giant bodyguards, and I assure you I will be quite well tonight, assuming the two of you don’t cook me to death. Now, are you going to grow some sense and let me have a peaceful night’s sleep, or are you going to doom me with your own over-protection?”

Thorin, easily the most stubborn person Bilbo’s ever met, just keeps glaring. Dwalin, never one to back down while his king’s still standing, doesn’t relinquish his grip on his bedroll.

Then Thorin surges forward, right past Bilbo, marches around the ponies, and plops his bedroll down an arm’s length from Bilbo’s. It is, perhaps, an improvement form earlier, when all three bedrolls were practically overlapping. Dwalin immediately follows suit.

Once Thorin straightens up again, Bilbo stares at him a little longer, then Dwalin, then finally shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, that’ll have to do. But I honestly don’t know what to do with you both sometimes. Next you’ll have me wearing that armoured vest in this heat!”

Thorin breaks his stern glare in favour of shock, exclaiming, “You’re not wearing the mithril?”

Dwalin grunts, “I’ll get it,” and moves towards the packs strewn over the ponies, while Bilbo drops his head into his hands and wonders how these two ever managed to let him face a dragon.


End file.
